


Poisonous

by oclark1226



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Anxiety, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Pneumonia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jason Todd, Rape, Sick Dick Grayson, Someone Take These Kids to Therapy, Swearing, The Waynes are Bad at Feelings, Vomiting, Worried Tim Drake, please help them, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25533700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oclark1226/pseuds/oclark1226
Summary: After Tarantula and Blockbuster happen, Dick's not holding it together so well. It's only a matter of time before something sets off a chain reaction that spills it all out into the open."He heard someone call his name, but it sounded like it he was underwater. The man pulled him back from the wall again and Dick braced for the impact. Instead of hitting the wall, his body was thrown through a window, glass cutting into the less protected parts of his suit. Fighting to stay conscious, he had just enough awareness to realize which side of the warehouse he’d been thrown out of before he hit the water and he blacked out."
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 389





	Poisonous

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Nightwing (1996) Issue #93, aka where Tarantula and Blockbuster happen. I’m basically jumping in where Bruce called Dick back to Gotham and going from there. Fuck the canon timeline, I do what I want. Also, this is a very serious topic and I’m trying to be realistic about the situation but also sensitive, so if these subjects are triggering to you, plz be careful and do what’s best for you. I just feel like we need to address how Dick was literally homeless and going through so much shit without really telling anyone and how that affected him. Also, I’m not a doctor. I just do some googling and hope what I’m saying is semi-realistic.

Gotham never seemed to run out of trouble. In the past month, a new group of drug dealers started circulating an enhanced, but more volatile version of the Venom that Bane used. Users experienced an immediate surge in strength and adrenaline, but continued use of it was often fatal. It pushed the body’s systems past its limits. Still, people kept taking it, becoming responsible for the deaths of both criminals and innocent bystanders alike.

Bruce had called in Dick and Tim to help him work on this case. He sent his eldest with Damian to keep an eye on the city while Tim stayed with him at the Batcave, both utilizing their detective skills. At the same time, Jason was digging for information using contacts on the inside, although the others were unaware. 

Dick and Damian returned to the Cave around three in the morning with little new intel. Getting off his bike, Dick tried not to let his exhaustion show. It had been hard enough to keep Damian oblivious while they patrolled together. He was performing, imitating his own personality on the surface while his inner thoughts buried themselves deeper in his mind. 

Throwing on a forced smile, he congratulated Damian on his stealth as the boy made his way to Bruce and Tim. While they compared notes, Dick let the mask slip from his face and headed to the showers. 

By the time he’d stripped his costume off, he noticed his hands were shaking. Turning on the water, he braced his hands against the tile wall to steady himself. _I can’t hide this for much longer. Someone’s gonna figure it out._ The shaking worsened and he felt his knees start to waver. Dropping to the floor, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. He turned to the side just in time to vomit not entirely onto himself. 

Gagging and spitting, tears spilled from his eyes as he threw up. He hadn’t been eating as much as usual, so it wasn’t long before it was just bile coming up. The shower washed the puke away as quickly as it came up. Eventually, he was just dry heaving. His whole body was getting sprayed with warm water, but it couldn’t do anything about the cold, hard feeling in his chest. 

_I’m…dirty. Poisonous. I’ve got blood on my hands. The others…they’ll hate me. I’m weak. Pathetic. Just need to complete the mission and get back to Bludhaven. Then I’ll…deal._

He let the water run over him for a couple more minutes before he shut it off and got dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He just wanted to get into the nearest comfy bed and sleep for the next 12 hours, but Bruce intercepted him before he could leave the Cave.

“You missed debrief,” Bruce said curtly. His body language was stiff, formal. This was still Batman talking, not Dick’s adoptive father. Instinctively, Dick let his bangs fall into his face, obscuring his red-rimmed eyes. _He can’t know. He’ll just be disappointed._

Dick shrugged. “Damian had it covered. Figured you’d let me know what I needed to know when I needed to know it.” That wasn’t too far-fetched. Bruce wasn’t the most forthcoming with information if he didn’t consider it necessary. And of all of them, Dick tended to be the most flexible when it came to plans. He took the intel as it came and ran with it.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Fair enough. Get some rest. The deal’s going down in a couple days.” With that, he strode back to the Batcomputer where Tim was trying not to doze off. Bruce said something to him that forced him out of the chair and Tim joined Dick on his way up the stairs.

Tim moved robotically, barely paying attention to his surroundings. Dick managed to guide him to his bedroom and watched him fall asleep in mere seconds, then left with a sigh. If only sleep came so easily to them without being dead tired or injured. 

Dick was currently staying in his old bedroom, more for convenience than anything. He didn’t want to sleep. He’d been having nightmares for the past month and they were only getting worse. _You could talk to someone. Get help. Get out of this hole._ Instead, he took as many sleeping pills as he dared and let the dreams come. 

…

A couple of days later, Dick found himself crouched on a rooftop, staring at a couple of armed thugs by some shipping containers. The deal was happening soon. Bruce and Damian were on the opposite side, ready to strike. Tim was inside their base of operations, a dingy old warehouse, hacking their systems to get all the dirt he could. Once he got out, they were shutting this operation down. 

At the same time, Jason was on the ground, silently knocking out guards as he worked his way to the building. Damian spotted the red helmet first, calling it out over their comms. Dick sensed more than heard a short huff from Bruce. This was an unforeseen complication. 

“I could go intercept,” Dick offered. He probably had the best chance at talking to Jason without starting an argument that could derail everyone’s plans for the night. 

“Negative, Nightwing,” Bruce replied. “We’re on the same side tonight. He knows the rules we play by. It’s up to him whether he follows them or not.”

Dick sighed. He was too tired to argue. It wouldn’t be worth it anyways. So, he stayed where he was until Tim let them know that he was out. By then, Jason had almost made it inside. Bruce gave them the signal, and everything kicked off at once. 

Jason was taken by surprise to see Bats and the other Robins, both past and present. A tense look was shared between him and Bruce, but they seemed to have an understanding, a temporary truce for the night. With that, the fighting started. 

The five of them were making short work of the drug dealers, guards, and general scum of the city as they came across them, slowly working their way inside the warehouse. Once they got in, however, they found a group of men who were taking the new Venom. Their muscles bulged against their skin and their pupils were dilated. Tim and Jason took on one while Bruce and Damian took on another, leaving Dick alone with a third. 

Usually, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Dick was well-rounded, versed in many types of martial arts and other fighting techniques. His armor was tough enough to take a few hits without slowing him down. However, he hadn’t been sleeping or eating well. He was stressed. He was dealing with a lot at the moment. Knowing that, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that he was off his game. 

He didn’t dodge in time to miss a fist to his stomach. Lost his balance trying to perform a roundhouse kick and had to abandon the move. The others were busy subduing a few more gang members on Venom. Frustrated and tired, Dick got sloppy. 

One moment of imperfection was enough for the other man to wrap his hands around Dick’s throat, slamming him against the wall of the warehouse. Crushing his windpipe, the man pulled him away from the wall only to slam him into it again, most of the impact on his skull. Blinking away spots in his vision, Dick gasped for breath. 

He heard someone call his name, but it sounded like it he was underwater. The man pulled him back from the wall again and Dick braced for the impact. Instead of hitting the wall, his body was thrown through a window, glass cutting into the less protected parts of his suit. Fighting to stay conscious, he had just enough awareness to realize which side of the warehouse he’d been thrown out of before he hit the water and he blacked out.

…

_He was on the rooftop. It was raining. The combination made him feel sick. He was cold, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the blood on his hands. Not just his hands; it was all over him. He could taste it. Lightning and thunder struck simultaneously and suddenly he was laying on his back instead of standing._

_There was a snake partially coiled up on his exposed stomach, its head raised. Its eyes seemed too human as its gaze raked over him. It pitied him. He didn’t care._

_The snake slithered off him, but he was still pinned down by some invisible weight. The rainwater was trying to drown him, filling his mouth, his nose, his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. As his vision faded out, he didn’t feel afraid. Just numb._

…

Jason ripped off his helmet and dove into the water after Dick as fast as he could, hoping he’d get there soon enough. The freezing temperatures cut through his insulated suit like it was nothing. His fingertips brushed against something solid and he grabbed onto it like his life depended on it. He broke the surface violently, spluttering and coughing, dragging his brother’s unresponsive body with him as he swam.

When he reached the nearest dock, arms reached down and pulled the limp body from him before they returned to pull him from the water. He was still coughing and felt himself starting to shiver violently. Jason could see that Damian was saying something from his position at Dick’s head while Tim performed CPR with textbook accuracy. Damian tore off a part of his cape and pressed it against Dick’s head, continuing to speak rapidly.

Bruce watched on, but he had been the one to pull Jason out. He had Jason leaning back against his chest, his cape pulled around to keep the younger warm. Between catching his breath and his entire body trembling, Jason didn’t have the energy to get up. Even if he did, he’s not sure he would have. Being in Bruce’s grasp was still a comfort, even after all these years.

…

Tim had Dick’s body across his lap in the backseat of the Batmobile. Damian was next to him, cradling Dick’s head in his own lap. He’d continually made new bandages from his cape as the originals became soaked through with blood and water. The other two were in the front, painfully silent except for the occasional coughing fit from Jason. Tim kept one hand on Dick’s chest to monitor his breathing, the other around his wrist to check his pulse. It was weak and unsteady, but still there. His breathing wheezed in and out unevenly, but he was breathing.

Tim tried to focus on Dick’s vitals, reporting any changes aloud to the others, for their sake as much as his own. The ball of anxiety and guilt in his stomach, however, kept him anything but steady. He knew that he would fall apart as soon as the immediate danger passed. As it was, his older brother probably had several broken or cracked ribs and developing hypothermia. If they didn’t treat those soon, it could get much more serious. And if he stopped to think about the consequences, he wouldn’t be able to keep going forward. 

He couldn’t stop replaying the moment Dick finally came back to them, vomiting up water and shaking. Even now, with his Nightwing costume still soaking wet, Dick trembled beneath his fingertips. The Batmobile’s heaters were on as high as they could go, but he wasn’t going to get much better until they got him changed and checked out. Tim could only count the seconds it took for them to get home.

…

Damian kept one of Dick’s hands in his own as they moved from the Batmobile to the infirmary. Alfred was already there, snapping into action as soon as Dick’s body reached the cots. Both Alfred and Bruce tried to remove Damian from the area, but he refused. He had to be there for Grayson when he woke. He knew the other would do the same for him. 

The two adults worked around him and he truly did try to stay out of the way. They stripped Dick, throwing the soggy costume to the side. Throughout the process, he sometimes whimpered or shivered down his whole body and Damian rubbed his arm to try to soothe him. It was something he’d seen Dick do to others to comfort them during difficult times. It wasn’t much, but it allowed him to feel useful. 

Tim had demanded Jason change into warmer clothes before he tried to help, but the stubborn man refused to listen, joining the chaos around Dick. Words like “fever,” “pneumonia,” and “trauma” were shouted around Damian and part of his mind demanded that he pay attention. The other part of his mind chose to focus on his brother and how to keep him calm and comfortable. That part won. 

…

Bruce was exhausted. He was finally changed into his usual civilian attire, although more comfortable than usual. After stabilizing Dick in the Batcave, Alfred had promised to keep an eye on the boy while Bruce took a shower and freshened up. As he made his way from his bedroom suite to the entrance to the Cave, he spotted Tim and Jason in the kitchen. Seeing those two at peace with each other was a rarity, so he stopped to eavesdrop.

Glancing in, he saw that Jason had also showered since getting back to the manor. Even though he was already wearing dry, warm clothing, Tim was shoving a blanket around his shoulders, chiding him about how he still shivered on occasion. Jason grumbled in response, but allowed it all the same. There were two mugs on the table they were sitting at, both steaming. Tim’s was most likely coffee, but Jason’s was probably hot chocolate. Bruce was glad to see them taking care of each other, in their own ways.

With a soft smile, he left the scene and returned to the infirmary. Stripped down to his boxers, Dick was still unconscious, shifting restlessly. The bandages around his head looked clean at least. Damian’s head rested on Dick’s shoulder, despite Dick’s almost constant movement. Alfred, upon seeing Bruce entering, held a finger to his lips. Damian must’ve fallen asleep while keeping watch over Dick. Even with the medical equipment and bright lights surrounding Dick, it was a peaceful sight. 

…

“He has a high fever. Just above 102 degrees as of the last check. I’m also worried about his breathing, sir. It seems uneven and gets quite shallow at times,” Alfred noted as he left to clean some of the used equipment. Bruce nodded, getting up from his chair to add fresh, cool washcloths to Dick’s forehead, chest, and wrists. Damian was still asleep next to him. Bruce didn’t want to force them to split, but they really needed to get Dick’s temperature down. Damian’s body heat certainly wasn’t helping with that. 

Dick muttered something in his sleep as Bruce laid the damp washcloth on his clammy forehead. “Chum?” He asked, leaning down to gently touch Dick’s cheek. It was slick with sweat. “You with us?” 

Dick groaned, face clenching up in pain. “Never…never stop,” he mumbled incoherently. “Never gonna…stop.” Next to him, Damian stirred, opening his eyes under his mask. Almost immediately, he held Dick’s hand in both of his own and gave it several strong squeezes. Dick seemed to settle down some, words dissolving into hums and groans again. 

Damian cautiously removed himself from the cot. Bruce sat back down and watched Dick slip deeper into sleep, face relaxing a fraction, then addressed his youngest. “You should shower, get changed. I’ll be here when you’re done.” Damian nodded curtly and left, glancing over his shoulder just once as he did.

Bruce felt another presence join him soon after Damian had left. “Tim?”

“Hey,” Tim sighed, sitting down on a cot next to Dick’s so he was across from Bruce. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands without a cup of coffee in them and settled for shoving them between his knees. Dick made a noise in his throat, twitching slightly. Both Tim and Bruce watched him carefully, but he relaxed again in moments.

“Where’s Jason?” Bruce asked. He wasn’t sure if Tim knew or not. For all he himself knew, Jason could’ve left the moment he felt well enough to. 

“Asleep,” Tim replied. “Might’ve added a little something to his hot chocolate. He didn’t look too good when we got back. He’s passed out in the living room if you need him.”

Bruce was impressed. Tim was very perceptive, but not overly assertive, especially concerning Jason Todd. Considering the night’s events, he could see how Tim’s concern for Dick rubbed off to Jason as well. Sometimes, it all came down to what you did and didn’t have control over. While Bruce and Alfred tended to Dick, Tim made sure Jason didn’t overwork himself and end up in the same condition. 

Between the two of them, Dick started to fidget again. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as his whole body tensed up. “No, no, no, no—what have I _done_?” Dick whispered frantically. Both Tim and Bruce were at his side in seconds, trying to calm him. The washcloths fell off his body as he turned from side to side in a panic. 

“Don’t—don’t touch,” Dick gasped, suddenly curling into himself. As he did so, he raked his fingers down his chest, clawing at his own skin with feverish determination.

“He’s delirious,” Bruce growled, trying to pin down Dick’s upper body while Tim handled his legs. “We need to restrain him before he hurts himself!”

“I killed him! I didn’t—no, Bruce, I’m sorry!!” Dick screamed, thrashing more violently than before. Tears streamed down his face as Alfred rejoined them, attempting to tie down Dick’s wayward limbs. Gasping for breath, Dick sobbed, “He’s dead and it’s my fault! Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry!” He was outright wailing, keening like he was in physical pain. 

Tim and Bruce finished strapping Dick down while Alfred administered a sedative via a syringe. Dick’s cries dissolved into whimpers and then he went quiet as the sedative took effect.

In the sudden silence, Tim whispered, “Bruce, did he say he _killed_ someone?”

“He’s probably just having some fever dream, Tim,” Bruce reasoned, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “I’m sure it was nothing.” He put one hand on Tim’s shoulder until the boy relaxed and sat back down. 

“Yeah,” Tim nodded meekly. “You’re probably right. He just needs to sleep this off. But his hands…what was he trying to do to himself?”

“I don’t know, Tim. Alfred and I will handle it. You should worry about getting some sleep,” Bruce advised him. “Damian and Jason have both gotten some rest since we get back. Why don’t you go take a nap? Alfred or I will get you if anything major changes with Dick, okay?”

Tim nodded again, standing up to go back upstairs. As he turned to leave, he gave Dick’s hand a quick squeeze. Once he was gone, Bruce started replacing the washcloths on Dick’s body while Alfred took his temperature. Neither of them could look at the self-inflicted scratches for long. They were just thankful he hadn’t broken skin.

“Down to just under 101, sir. Master Richard seems to be on the mend, slowly but surely,” Alfred reported. Bruce just nodded in response. _He shouldn’t be in this state to begin with. Not like him to be so sloppy. So reckless. Clearly, something happened in Bludhaven. Has he been keeping things from me?_

“Master Bruce, may I suggest you get some rest as well? It’s been a long night for all of us,” Alfred offered.

Bruce shook his head. “I need to write up a report for tonight still, sooner rather than later. I can do that here and keep an eye on him. Take a break, Alfred. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

“Very well, sir. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Alfred.”

…

_Head hurts. Everything hurts. What the hell happened?_

Dick heard a groan and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from him. People were speaking around him, but he couldn’t make out their words. Everything felt fuzzy, disconnected. The only clear sensations were pain and a bone-deep chill. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it. _Why can’t I breathe?_

The voices started to get clearer and he tried to focus in on them. He realized he was shaking, either from shock or the cold or maybe both. He forced his eyes open and tried to ignore how hard it was to get a deep breath in. 

Squinting at the bright lights, he tried to speak but started coughing instead. It felt like he’d accidentally inhaled water when he should’ve swallowed it and he couldn’t get it out of his airways. Someone pushed him upright into a sitting position and he doubled over, curling into himself. He could only manage shallow breaths in between the wet, hacking coughs that wracked his body.

Once he’d made it through the worst of the coughing, he fell back into someone’s chest. Too tired to try to figure out who it was, he let his eyelids fall shut again. Trying to breathe was still a battle he wasn’t sure he was winning. The person behind him at least provided him some warmth to fight off his internal cold. 

Voices continued to reverberate around him strangely. Everything still felt foggy, hazy. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up like this or even the last place he’d been. He was exhausted and still in pain, but he felt like he was safe, wherever he was. Coughing a few more times, his limited strength faded and he gave in to sleep. 

…

Dick woke up again, still feeling confused and disoriented. _Where am I? This doesn’t look like my apartment…Oh right, that doesn’t exist anymore._ Just like that, memories came flooding back to him. _My apartment. All those people. And the circus. Babs. Amy. Blockbuster. And Tarantula…_

He felt the color drain from his face as the memory of that night hit him at full force. _Haven’t told Bruce yet. Oh god, that night. I can’t get it out of my head!_ Tears ran down his face. He could smell the wet asphalt, feel the gritty surface of the rooftop against his bare skin. He was _helpless._

“Not again, not again, _please!_ ” Dick whimpered, trying to get up and move. His arms and legs were stuck, pinned in place by an invisible force. All he could see was the blurry night sky above him and a shadow looming over him. 

“You can’t—don’t touch me!” He begged, voice cracking. “Poison—poisonous!” He was sobbing now. His skin crawled with the sensation of touch down his arms. The touch moved to his chest; one palm lay flat on his sternum. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to see what was coming next.

“Dick? Dick! Breathe, man!” Jason’s voice broke through the fever dream. His eyes opened again to reveal he was in the infirmary in the Batcave. Jason’s worried face filled his vision. Dick quickly realized he was having a full-blown panic attack. Reliving that nightmare pushed his body into fight-or-flight mode and he couldn’t shut it off.

“Jay—I—I can’t—breathe—hurts,” Dick gasped, more tears running down his face. 

“Yes, you can, Dick. You just have to slow down and focus.” Tim’s face appeared next to Jason’s. He looked worried through the determination he showed on the surface.

Another voice came from the same side as Tim. “Richard, you are safe. You’re with us. Your,” Damian paused. “Your family.” Two small hands gripped one of Dick’s and held on tight.

 _The boys. They’re all here. All safe._ Once Dick realized that, he made an effort to calm down, but couldn’t help the coughing fit that came next. Someone dragged him up into a sitting position so he could breathe better, but he couldn’t stay upright. He’d cough until he had no more breath, then somehow just keep going. It took him a while to get through it and even longer to get back to taking normal, deep breaths. 

His chest was in so much pain. Leaning back, Dick wiped the tears and sweat from his face. “I’m…sorry you had to see that,” he said, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

“Sorry?” Jason growled. He’d gone straight from worry to fury. “Dick, what the hell was that?” 

“Just a nightmare. A fever dream,” Dick lied with a casual wave of his hand. He coughed a few more times, grimacing at the pain in his chest and throat. 

“Dick, you just had a severe panic attack. Dreams don’t just do that to you,” Tim observed. He was frowning, trying to decipher the emotions coming off Dick.

Damian scrutinized him. “Grayson, you arrived in Gotham in poor condition. You’ve been increasingly reckless. Now, you’re lying to our faces,” he accused, arms crossed. 

Dick froze. He hadn’t been expecting Damian to be the one to start putting the pieces together. Especially so soon. Jason huffed and narrowed his eyes, settling onto a nearby cot with folded arms. Tim sat down in the chair previously occupied by Bruce, patiently waiting for an explanation. Damian just kept staring Dick down.

Dick swallowed hard. He’d known they’d find out _eventually._ He’d talk to them _eventually._ But now? He wasn’t ready, not even close. His hands started shaking and he clenched his fists to hide it. _Guess I just gotta bite the bullet._

“I—I don’t know where to start,” Dick admitted, staring at his empty lap.

“Wherever you want,” Tim said softly. He placed a gentle hand on Dick’s shoulder, encouraging him to speak. Dick took a deep breath and began.

He started with Blockbuster and his obsession with the death of his mother, which he blamed Nightwing for. With that motivation, he’d worked to find out his secret identity, then made his life a living hell. 

“It started with Slade. Because of him, I lost my job at the police department. My boss learned about my night job and couldn’t have a vigilante on the force,” Dick confessed. “I didn’t know what to do with myself. Then, Barbara and I…she dumped me. I lost her.” His voice became more subdued, the pain showing through.

“I got called back to Haly’s…and Firefly burned it down. I couldn’t save them all. Innocent people died just for being close to me,” he whispered, tears falling down his face. Tim kept rubbing calming circles on his back while Damian sat next to him, squeezing his hand. “Then, just…more death,” Dick hiccupped. “Blockbuster had my apartment building blown up. People _burned_ to death. And it was all because of me.”

Dick broke down, the weight of all those innocent lives lost hitting him like a freight train. Tim, Damian, and even Jason all tried to calm him down, telling him it wasn’t his fault. 

“It was _me_! Just knowing me put them at risk!” Dick cried out. He had to get this all out, whether his brothers would listen to him or not. “And I couldn’t save them in time! An—And then, Catalina and I—I mean Tarantula and I, we—” Dick broke off, sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Hey, hey, take your time,” Tim said softly, putting his hands on Dick’s shoulders. 

Dick shrugged them off, shocking the others. He pulled his hand out of Damian’s grasp, huddling into himself. “You can’t—can’t do that,” he whispered between breaths. “You w—won’t want to—not once you know.”

“Know what, Dick?” Jason asked, as gently as he could manage.

“Blockbuster attacked us. He said—he said that, because I was responsible for his mother’s death, anyone I so much as talked to in the street would be ‘marked for death,’” Dick whispered. “He said it would never stop. It would never end with him. S—So when Tar—Catalina pointed a gun at him,” Dick stuttered, struggling to continue. 

“I didn’t stop her.” Dick’s hands went to his face, palms pressing into his eyes as if he could purge the image of Roland’s corpse out of his memory by brute force.

“Son of a bitch fuckin’ _deserved_ it!” Jason exclaimed, furious. He backed away from Dick to pace, clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles were white. 

Tim was startled by Jason’s outburst, but returned his focus to Dick. “You didn’t pull the trigger, Dick. You didn’t kill anyone,” he reassured gently.

Dick let his hands fall into his lap. “I may as well have. We don’t let bad guys kill other bad guys. That’s not who we are.”

Damian frowned. “I have killed before. So has Todd. What you did? That wasn’t murder. We would know.” Jason gave the youngest a weird look, but nodded nonetheless.

Dick shivered. He felt incredibly drained after shedding so many tears. _In front of everyone else, best of all. And I haven’t even gotten to the worst part._ He coughed a few times and groaned, rubbing at his aching ribs. It was easier to focus on the physical discomfort than the painful memories still lingering in his mind.

“That’s not all that happened, is it Grayson?” 

Damian was too damn perceptive for his own good. Having worked with Dick for so long, he’d learned his tells and body language. This wasn’t the first time he’d used pain as an excuse to avoid something worse.

Dick visibly flinched at the accusation, knowing there was no escape for him now. Tim gave Damian a look that was both curious and annoyed. 

“You’ve already told us plenty,” Tim said. “I’m sure whatever else happened can wait.”

Dick shook his head desperately and said darkly, “If I don’t say it now, I never will.”

The others glanced at each other. That tone of finality was rare to hear from Dick. Tim sighed, knowing Jason’s and Damian’s curiosity would win over his own insistence that Dick should be resting and deserved a break from their interrogation. Plus, it seemed that Dick was telling them all of this willingly, for the most part. He wasn’t happy to do it, but they hadn’t needed to force it all out of him.

Dick let out a breath, wringing his hands together. It was an old nervous habit of his, one he hadn’t done much since he was a kid. It took him back to standing anxiously outside Bruce’s bedroom door after waking from a nightmare. He would stand there for minutes, mentally debating whether he really needed to wake the man. Some nights, he just went back to his room and tried to sleep. Others, he managed the confidence to go in and wake Bruce, who would then let Dick join him in his giant bed to stay the night. Eventually, the time he spent deliberating got less and less until he was comfortable enough to go right in. 

“A—after she shot him, I had a panic attack, so I went up to the roof. She followed me.” His hands were already shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damian hesitantly reach for one of them and he pulled away, shaking his head back and forth. 

“She—we—we had sex. I wasn’t really…there. I was still freaking out about…everything. I failed her, and Bruce, and myself. And she just, she kept telling me that we were safe now. Blockbuster couldn’t hurt us anymore. And I mean, she was right,” Dick laughed bitterly. “But I still couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think, and she just got on t—top of me—” Dick broke off, sobs returning full force. 

This time, when his brothers touched him, he let them. They grounded him to the present. He wasn’t on that rooftop. He was home, safe, and with his family. They wanted to protect him, but it was too late. They could only do so much to keep his own mind from torturing him with that night. 

He must’ve said some of that aloud because Jason practically growled at him, “Fuck that. It’s not too late to go find her and make her regret being alive.” For that comment, Damian slapped him in the shoulder. “Ow, what the hell? Of all people, I thought _you_ would at least be on board with revenge.”

Damian frowned at him. “You know that Richard wouldn’t want that. It would only further his guilt. We seek justice, not vengeance.”

“Well, how d’you suggest we get that?” Jason replied sourly.

Tim was the one who answered, arms wrapped around Dick, who was leaned into his chest while he struggled to calm down. “We focus on taking care of our brother, first of all,” he said, eyes narrowed. “And if she dares show her face again, we teach her a lesson. _Without_ killing. Just enough to get our point across.”

Damian nodded, face set in determination. Jason rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine, we do things the kiddy way.” _For your sake, Dickiebird. Not for Bruce. And not for these two crazies either._

Dick took a few more minutes to get his emotions under control. If his previous revelation had left him feeling drained, this one left him sucked dry. No more tears to cry, he pulled back from Tim’s embrace, but accepted the continued contact on his shoulder. He was exhausted, mentally and physically.

It must’ve really shown on his expression because Jason and Tim worked together without a word to lay him back down, even tucking him in under a thin sheet. Everything was starting to get fuzzy again, faces blurring into vague shapes as Dick struggled to stay awake.

“Jesus,” he heard Jason mutter. “He didn’t come back here during _any_ of that?”

“Didn’t even call,” Tim answered. “We had no idea. You’d think he would’ve at least come here for a place to stay, since his apartment’s gone.”

“Fucking dipshit would rather be homeless than come home cryin’ to Bruce.” 

“No wonder he’s gotten so sick. That amount of stress, probably sleeping outside for God knows how long. We should tell Bruce.”

“Are you serious?” 

A warm, familiar presence joined Dick on the cot, distracting him from eavesdropping. “Richard,” Damian whispered. “Go to sleep. We will deal with this later, when you are well.” Dick didn’t respond, just let himself relax and finally get the rest he needed.

…

When Dick came to again, Jason was the only one there with him. Sitting and reading in the chair next to Dick’s cot, Jason didn’t notice that Dick had woken up until he heard a poorly stifled cough, following by several louder ones. He put his book to the side with a sigh, helping Dick sit up. “Only you would try to let me read in peace when you’re sick. Just get that shit outta your lungs, idiot.”

Dick, coughing harder, grabbed hold of Jason’s forearm and the younger man winced at the force. “Hey, Dickhead, breathe,” he said, starting to get worried. Dick just shook his head, free hand weakly thumping his own chest. Jason felt his heart skip a beat. He moved fast, one arm bracing Dick’s front, his other pounding Dick’s back a few times. 

He froze, suddenly terrified that he’d cause his brother more pain than he was already in. Dick’s head hung limply over his shoulder and his bare chest slumped against his own, but he was finally taking some decent breaths. Jason relaxed a fraction but didn’t leave his position. “Dick? You good?”

Dick nodded against his shoulder blade but seemed too weak to do much else. “S—” Dick tried to say something and broke off into harsh coughs. Jason didn’t get up, just rubbed Dick’s back until he was done. Dick made a tired, defeated sound, and Jason took that as his cue to lay him back down. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jason beat him to it. “Nope, shut up. Jesus, man, you just don’t learn. Listen, use my phone if you need to tell me something. Or we could get a notepad. Just, shut the fuck up and _breathe_ for a goddamn minute.”

Dick almost chuckled, settling for a grin as his eyes drifted shut. Jason massaged his temple. That had been so much more stressful than it had any right to be. _Always the drama queen._ He pulled out his phone, opening the Notes app and handing it to Dick. “Do you need anything right now? I’m gonna call Alfred down here in a minute.”

 _I’m okay. Just tired. Don’t bother Alfie._ Dick showed the screen of the phone to Jason, watching him read it.

“You almost _died!_ ” Jason exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “If I hadn’t been here, you could’ve stopped breathing, Dick!” Dick frowned and started typing again, but Jason snatched his phone back. “No, you listen to me. I get it; you’ve been through the fucking wringer recently. Tough shit! Doesn’t mean you get to throw your life away!” He was out of breath at the end of the sentence and had to turn away so Dick couldn’t see the emotions in his expression. 

“I’m getting Alfred. Don’t die while I’m gone.”

…

“I can’t say I’m surprised. I mean, all the things you told us about? Losing a job that you actually liked, your childhood home, your best friend who also happens to be your girlfriend, and your whole apartment building. All that, and then…then getting raped. On top of everything else. And you didn’t tell anyone. Not me, not Damian, not Bruce. Not even Alfred. And we all know Alfred wouldn’t judge; he’s Alfred.”

_Tim?_

“So yeah, I get how…how hard it would be to keep going after that. I can’t imagine how alone you felt. And you know you have us, you _always_ have us. But we’re not the kind of family that talks about their feelings. Maybe we need to do something about that. We can’t let each other run ragged like this. I think Bruce is even thinking about having us all meet up for brunch once a month, just to check in with everyone.”

Dick forced his eyes open, despite how groggy he felt. Alfred must have increased his painkillers. He could hear a slight wheeze to his breathing when he exhaled and his throat felt rubbed raw. Turning his head, he saw Tim sitting next to him, busy typing on his laptop. As he opened his mouth to start talking again, he saw that Dick was awake and gave him a sad smile. 

“Hey, Dick. Don’t try to talk, but how’re you feeling? Thumbs up or thumbs down?” Tim asked, putting his laptop to the side. Dick gave him a thumb that was horizontal but tipping downwards. “Been worse, huh?” Dick just nodded in response. “Well, lucky for you, we got a notebook so you don’t have to strain your throat anymore. Just tell me what you need.” Tim handed him the promised notebook and a pen to write with. 

_Need to apologize to J._

Tim frowned. “That’s not exactly what I meant. Also, he left. Whatever happened between you two, he just called Alfred down and stormed out. Said he was going for a drive, but who knows what that means with him.” Dick tried to sit up and collapsed back down before Tim could shove him down by force. “No, you can’t go after him. You can’t even stand by yourself right now. Let him cool off. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Dick shook his head. Tim sighed, “Okay, fine. But Alfred gave you some new restrictions. No more talking, no getting out of bed, _obviously,_ and you’re not allowed to be by yourself. For a while. Whatever you did earlier has you under observation 24/7 until he says otherwise.”

Dick rolled his eyes with a huff. He started scribbling again, showing the notebook to Tim when he was done. _Do I have to stay down here?_

“Where else would you want to be?”

_The manor. Less dark and cold._

Tim sighed. It was such a simple request. Dick probably felt suffocated down here, away from everyone else. The Cave didn’t have much of a hospitable atmosphere, no matter how much time was spent in it. Except for Bruce, maybe. “Okay, I’ll text Damian and tell him to ask Alfred when he’s available.”

_Alfred’s busy?_

Tim scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh man, did I not wanna be the person to have this conversation.” Dick gave him a questioning look, threatening to try to get up again. “Relax and let me talk, okay?” Dick nodded, laying back down.

“So you know how you kinda blabbed everything to me, Jason, and Damian?” Another nod. “Well, Jason didn’t want us to tell Bruce any of it, to respect your privacy and everything. I thought we should tell him about the stuff with Blockbuster, but not Tarantula. He needed to know how you ended up in this condition, because in normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have had you down for long. But right now, you’ve lost weight and your immune system was in no shape to fight off an illness.”

“Anyways, we didn’t really decide on anything and let it go. Damian, on the other hand…” Tim trailed off and sighed. “He’s been really worried about you. I know it looked like he took it all well, but the kid’s barely been sleeping. So, I guess he felt like it was his responsibility to talk to Bruce about, well, everything.”

Dick could picture it, Damian approaching Bruce in his study, telling him that his eldest had failed at everything. He hadn’t protected the innocents and he’d been so _weak._ He’d screwed up in every possible way. That wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. The disappointment and punishment were supposed to stay between the two of them. 

Dick’s breathing sped up, tears threatening to escape his eyes. Tim’s voice continued, unaware of his reaction. “Bruce has been holed up in his room ever since. Alfred went to talk to him about whatever happened with you and Jason. I think Bruce is having one of those guilt complex breakdowns and Damian’s starting to get the same way. Everyone here feels like we should’ve, I don’t know, checked in with you more, noticed something was off when you came back, something.”

 _What? Guilt, not disappointment? They’re just…worried?_ Dick’s breathing slowed a fraction, letting the new information sink in. _But now everyone’s upset on my account. That wasn’t supposed to happen._

His thought train was interrupted with yet another bout of coughing, probably set off by his near-panic attack. Tim shoved a handkerchief in one of his hands before propping him up with his pillows. Dick coughed into the piece of cloth, wishing it would end. Every breath he took in made his throat more irritated, continuing the vicious cycle. 

He slumped back down against the pillows as the coughing lessened in strength. One hand laid on his aching abs while the other still held the handkerchief, which was now spotted with mucus. If he was more coherent, he would’ve been disgusted by it, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment.

“Are you okay?” Tim’s voice was small, full of worry. Dick nodded, wheezing as he tried to get his breath back. His eyes were still closed, too tired to open them. His chest didn’t allow for deep breaths without a sharp, stabbing pain in his lungs. _Why did being sick have to hurt so much?_

Once about a minute had passed without any coughs, Tim carefully removed the soiled handkerchief from Dick’s hand, although he hardly noticed. Watching the rise and fall of his chest, Tim worried for Dick. He got his phone out to send another text to Damian or maybe even Bruce, but found a response from earlier. 

_Alfred believes it would be beneficial for Richard to get out of the Batcave and into the manor. He will come down when he is available._

Tim sighed in relief, sagging down in the chair. Alfred would be coming soon. Dick seemed to be asleep again, breathing shallowly, but breathing. 

…

When Alfred arrived, they started preparing to move Dick into a wheelchair, as well as bringing his IV pole. Dick was barely conscious, just enough to not be _completely_ useless in moving himself. By the time they reached the elevator to leave the Cave, he was already dozing again. Alfred pushed the wheelchair while Tim brought along everything else. They made it to the main living room, decked out with a large flatscreen and a couple of video game consoles. Dick woke up again when they shifted him to the couch, immediately snuggling into the nest of blankets Alfred had set up. He was out again in seconds. 

“Alfred,” Tim said as he double checked Dick’s IV line. “He’s gonna be okay, right?”

Alfred stopped what he was doing to give Tim a hug. “Of course, my dear boy. Master Richard is a strong soul. He just needs adequate rest. God knows the last time he allowed himself as much.”

Tim let Alfred’s comfort wash over him, relaxing his tense muscles. Once they broke off the hug, he couldn’t help the yawn that came over him. “Why don’t you get some rest, Master Tim? I’ll stay here with Master Richard for a while,” Alfred suggested. Of course, his suggestions were more like orders when it came to this family. Tim nodded and thanked him before wandering off to his own room to take a well-deserved nap.

…

“He’s gone!”

Jason shook Tim by a shoulders a little rougher than necessary to wake him up, shouting at him. Tim woke with a start, fighting to get Jason off him. “What? Who’s gone? Dick?” 

Jason shook his head. “Damian. Alfred tried to get him to take a shift with Dick and we can’t find him anywhere. Alfie’s gonna search the manor and try to get Bruce to help. You and I are gonna search the grounds.”

Tim was already getting dressed, shoes almost on by the time Jason stopped talking. “Okay. Any idea where he would’ve gone?”

“You think _I_ would know?” Jason laughed humorlessly.

“We should ask Dick—”

“Dick needs to rest. And if he knew the brat was missing, we’d have to spend half our time fighting to keep him on that damn couch. It’s easier if he doesn’t know,” Jason growled. “I just hope he stays asleep while we’re looking.”

With that, the two of them made their way outside. It was raining heavily and neither of them had thought to grab jackets when they went outside. The clouds covered the sun, which was already low in the sky. “We have to find him before the sun goes down. We don’t have a chance finding him in the trees without light,” Tim noted. They split up, agreeing to text or call each other if they found anything. 

…

Dick woke up groggily, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Once things came into focus, he realized he was in the manor. The blankets around him tempted him to return to sleep, but he’d already noticed that he was alone and something told him that was wrong. _Tim said I was on watch. But no one’s here. Where are they?_

He heard voices down a hall, calling for Damian. It took him a minute to realize it wasn’t just a call to dinner. It was a call like he was missing. And the only reason Dick could think of for his brother running off was that he felt bad for betraying Dick’s trust. He had to find him and let him know that it was okay. His little brother didn’t need that guilt on his shoulders.

The voices receded into the distance and Dick tried to call out, but nothing happened. Clearing his throat only made him cough, keeping him from getting up. Catching his breath, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, then stopped to catch his breath again. Once the dizziness faded, he pulled out the needle in his arm. He had an idea as to where Damian might be, and the IV pole wasn’t going to be able to come with him. 

The inside of his elbow only bled a little bit, not enough to be a problem, so he focused on the next step. He managed to pull the wheelchair close to his seated position, then steeled himself for the next move. Bracing his arms on the arms of the chair, he used as much momentum as he could to throw himself into the seat. The movement made him see spots, but he’d done it. 

He started wheeling himself to the back door, not encountering anyone else on the way. Once he reached the door, it took a little more effort to get over the lip between inside and outside, but he made it. It was pouring outside and he could hear thunder in the distance. Someone had thrown a t-shirt and athletic shorts on him, but those were immediately soaked to his skin.

The back deck had a ramp built on that they’d added when Barbara became confined to a wheelchair. Dick almost lost control on the way down it because of how slick it was. Once he hit the grass, he faced a new problem: either continue on the wheelchair and fight the terrain, or ditch the wheelchair and try to walk the rest of the way. 

At first, he tried to stick to the chair. Unfortunately, the ground was too uneven to make much progress. His heart raced as a flash of lightning nearly blinded him. He knew, logically, that this was a bad idea. It was bad for him to even be outside in his condition. On the other hand, he was the only one who knew where Damian was and possibly the only one that could convince him to come back in. 

_Now or never._ Dick pushed himself up and out of the seat, landing on unsteady feet. His first step left him on his hands and knees in the mud, spots dancing across his field of vision. Pain shot through his chest as he tried to breathe through the sudden nausea that came with the dizziness. Once the wave of symptoms faded, he managed to get up onto two feet. 

One step at a time, Dick stumbled his way towards a particular grove of trees. There was a set of three trees whose branches converged at a point to make a sort of seat. Dick and Damian had discovered it together one day and climbed up to it, watching the sun set from their position in the leaves. It was their special spot, something for just the two of them. 

Dick had to stop and lean against a trunk, vision swimming. Breaths scraped through his throat, causing pain with every swallow. He just needed to catch his breath before he kept going. The rain was still coming down hard, but it had gotten even colder as the sun dropped towards the horizon. He shivered violently, holding back a coughing fit that could knock him over on his ass. 

He only made it a few more feet before one leg gave out, either from exhaustion or the effects of this harsh environment. He curled up into a ball, coughing and shaking on the forest floor. “I’m s—sorry,” he whispered to no one. “I’m s—so s—orry, Dami.” Talking only made the coughing worse, but he didn’t care anymore. He just kept proving to everyone else that he was a failure. No matter what he did, he would always fail. Maybe Blockbuster’s death cursed him to be like that until the day he died. He wouldn’t be surprised. 

“—chard? Richard? Is that you? Richard!” A voice called out nearby, or maybe in his own head. Dick just tried to breathe without causing himself more chest pain and waited for the inevitable blackout he knew had to be coming. His body hadn’t been ready for this. He could drown in a puddle right now. How pathetic. 

Someone was yelling just above him, pulling on his arms. _What a fun dream this is._ It didn’t take much longer for his body to finally give in to the darkness creeping over his eyes.

…

“Jason? I just got a text from Damian. Said he’s out back and needs help.”

“That’s all the details we get? This kid… Okay. Be there soon.”

Tim wandered the back of the manor until he heard Damian crying out. “Damian? Damian, where are you? What’s—” Tim cut himself off, seeing Dick motionless on the ground, soaked to the bone and barely breathing. Damian had tears running down his face, apologies spilling from his mouth as easily as insults usually came. 

Tim snapped himself out of it, barking orders at Damian and falling to his knees to check on Dick. “Damian, keep making noise. Jason should be on his way. How long ago—”

“F—five minutes, max,” Damian answered, lip trembling. Tim swore. Dick’s lips were starting to look blue. “Grab his arms. I’ll get his legs. He needs back inside, now!” Tim demanded. Damian didn’t hesitate, doing as he was told without talking back. As the two awkwardly made their way through the trees, Jason finally came running up to them.

“Fucking—goddammit, Dick,” was all he had to say before he took Dick from them, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Tim instructed Damian to run ahead to let the adults know while he retrieved Dick’s wheelchair from the grass. Jason just strode past, leaving Tim to drag the empty wheelchair with them.

By the time they reached the living room, it was a blur of motion. Bruce, seemingly back to himself, was setting up supplemental oxygen while Alfred dug around for something. As soon as Jason had laid Dick down, Alfred pulled out a pulse oximeter, attaching it to Dick’s finger. He muttered something to himself and Bruce handed the tubing to him. Alfred adjusted the nasal cannula to Dick’s face as Bruce made the appropriate adjustments to the machine’s settings. 

Dick was still soaking wet, as were the other boys. Tim and Damian stood off to the side while Jason stubbornly hovered by Dick’s head. 

“We need to warm him up and dry him off,” Alfred informed the people around him. That seemed to snap them back into action. Tim and Damian went in search of towels and clothes while Bruce and Jason hunted down blankets and heating pads. While they were gone, Alfred took off Dick’s ruined shirt and shorts. 

Jason got back first and couldn’t help but stare. Almost naked, it was painfully obvious how little Dick’s chest was moving beyond the violent shivers going through his whole frame. Laying there, tubes in his nose and IV returned to his arm, he just looked so _small._

Alfred caught sight of him standing still. “We need to dry him off and move him. The couch is already soaked. Master Bruce’s room is close. Take the blankets there,” he instructed, preparing to move the medical equipment. Jason just nodded, rushing off.

Tim and Damian got there next, Tim staying to help dry Dick off while Damian took the clothes and remaining towels to Bruce’s bedroom. Jason was already on his way back, brushing past Damian in the hallway. Bruce joined Damian in the bedroom, plugging in a heating pad and carrying a heated blanket. The two returned to Dick together, not saying a word to each other.

Alfred had Jason carry Dick’s upper body while Bruce held his lower half. Tim and Damian carried the rest of the supplies and equipment as they all moved as a unit to Bruce’s bed. Dick was still shivering fiercely, trying to curl into himself. The others arranged the blankets and heating pad around him, enough to raise his body temperature without cooking him. 

To their surprise, Jason, Tim, and Damian watched Bruce get into the bed next to Dick, pulling him close to his chest. Alfred nodded to himself, “Sharing body heat. That should help.” Turning to the boys, he sighed. “I’m afraid that’s all we can do for the time being. You all should get a shower and change into some clean, dry clothes.”

They were too tired to argue, leaving without a word to their own separate bathrooms to clean up. 

…

Bruce felt Dick stir in his hold. Laying in his own bed, he had shifted to his back, allowing Dick to curl up against his side to his heart’s content. It pulled at Bruce’s heartstrings to see his eldest search for comfort from him, even asleep. The shaking had stopped and his breathing had improved, lips back to their normal shade. 

Dick started to cough, weakly at first, but as he became more coherent, the coughing got more intense. Bruce got them both to sit up so that Dick could lean back against him. Dick doubled over for a moment, clutching his ribs in pain. Bruce kept up a steady stream of comforting words until Dick’s hacking turned into wheezing.

He grimaced, still holding his midsection. Sharp pain struck if he tried to take anything more than a shallow breath. A couple more coughs left his lips, leaving him exhausted and dizzy.

“Breathe, Dick. Just focus on breathing, okay?” Bruce pulled Dick back against his chest so he had the younger man practically in his lap. Dick didn’t resist, letting himself be shifted while his eyes squeezed shut and he tried to catch his breath. Bruce pulled some of the blankets around them, covering Dick’s shoulders as best as he could. They sat like that for minutes, waiting for Dick’s breath to resume a semi-normal sound and pace. 

Bruce wanted to say something; he knew he needed to. But was now the right time? Dick needed rest and recuperation, not to revisit his demons. _Unless,_ he pondered, _those demons are keeping him from healing._ He didn’t mean it in a literal sense, of course. More like the stress that Dick was carrying was only hurting his immune system, keeping him from recovering like he should.

Against his chest, Bruce felt Dick’s unsteady breathing start to even out. He was already falling asleep again, even sitting up. Bruce couldn’t lose this opportunity. Gently nudging Dick’s shoulders, Bruce called his name softly, pulling him back from sleep.

“Hmm?” Dick hummed, eyes fluttering open. He sat up a little straighter in Bruce’s lap, trying to turn around to face his mentor. 

“Just relax, Dick. I need to talk to you,” Bruce started, fighting the feelings of anxiety and fear. “I just need you to sit and listen. Don’t hurt your throat any more than it already is, okay?” Dick nodded, slumping back down to be more comfortable. He knew this conversation was coming. 

“I…haven’t been there for you like I should’ve.” Bruce felt Dick stiffen in surprise and he gave his arm a squeeze. _Just wait. Let me talk. Please._ “I heard about Blockbuster. And Haly’s, and Barbara, and your apartment building. I still keep tabs on you all, you know. I didn’t know about the…circumstances surrounding Blockbuster’s death, nor the events that followed. That was all new information from Damian.”

“By the way, please don’t be upset with him. That boy cares about you like you’re the brother he never had. He didn’t know how else to help you. When he told me, I felt awful. I failed you, Dick. I should’ve been there for you, or at least made it clear that I was available for you if you were…struggling.” Bruce had trouble finding the words he needed, but pushed on nonetheless. 

“Your brothers could tell something was up before I did. For all the time you and I spent together, they know how to read people—to read _you—_ better than I do. Hell, Alfred knows us better than we know ourselves. But I,” Bruce trailed off. “I don’t always _want_ to know everyone’s inner workings. It’s…easier to focus on the mission. And for so long, you all just let me do that.”

“Only just recently have I started to see where I went wrong. I didn’t address problems that I could see because I didn’t _want_ to see them. So I’m sorry for ignoring your needs, Dick. In costume and out. I’m going to work on being more present for you—for _all_ of you. I just hope you can forgive me eventually for not being there when you needed me.”

Tears leaked from Bruce’s eyes and ran down his cheeks. He didn’t know when he’d started crying. He ducked his head against Dick’s, feeling his still-damp hair and bandages against his own cheek. He could feel Dick shaking in his grasp and was terrified to look. He didn’t know if Dick would be angry, disappointed, or somewhere in between. 

Before he could move, Dick turned around so his face was buried in Bruce’s chest. He was sobbing, clinging to Bruce with what little strength he had left. Bruce held him securely, letting his own tears fall silently. Both of them needed so much time to heal. This was their first step. 

…

Damian jumped when Bruce’s bedroom door opened. He’d been standing outside, waiting patiently for Alfred to allow him entry. His father had spent a long while with Dick and when he finally left, he had a soft smile on his face. Alfred had shooed everyone out for a few hours after that so Dick would get some sleep. His fever had come back for a short time, but was already on its way out. 

Alfred beckoned Damian in, reminding him not to stress “Master Richard” or keep him awake for too long before the man left, leaving Damian feeling very, very small. 

“Grayson?” His voice was supposed to come out strong and secure, but he sounded uncertain and afraid. Dick gave him a lopsided smile, already propped up against his pillows. 

“Hey kiddo,” Dick whispered hoarsely, voice barely holding up. He tried to clear his throat and only made himself cough. Damian moved to do something to help, but Dick held up a hand. Damian paused, watching Dick get through the fit relatively well. Once it passed, Dick just patted the space next to him on the bed and Damian scrambled up. 

He tried to keep up his wall, compartmentalizing his rapidly fluctuating emotions like he’d been taught, but Damian couldn’t pretend around Dick. He let the tears fall, sniffling pathetically. Dick put a hand on his back and pulled him close to his side.

“It’s okay,” Dick croaked.

“Alfred said you still can’t talk,” Damian scolded gently. Dick held up his hands like he was innocent of committing any crimes against Alfred, which they both knew was false. Damian relaxed against Dick’s side. “I’m sorry, I—”

Dick put a hand over Damian’s mouth and shook his head with a sad smile. _I know, and I forgive you, little brother._ Damian knew that look, knew that Dick didn’t hold it against him and was ready to forgive. He buried his face in Dick’s side, letting himself cry in the presence of one of the few people he truly trusted. Dick just kept his arms around him, rubbing his back and soothing him. 

When Alfred came back in to check on them, they were both asleep. Dick’s head laid on top of Damian’s, both of them holding onto the other as they slouched onto the pillow backrest. Alfred smiled fondly, settling down to monitor Dick’s vitals and enjoying the sight before him.

…

Two weeks later, the four boys were adventuring in the backyard, chasing each other through the trees. Well, except Jason; he was mostly following along and making fun of the rest of them. Dick stopped, hands on his knees to catch his breath while laughing at the younger boys’ antics. Tim was trying to tag Damian, who had scaled a tree like it was nothing. Jason kept a worried eye on Dick, but still grinned. 

Looking around, Dick realized just where they were. “Hey, little D!” He called up to Damian, who was currently sticking his tongue out at Tim. He paused, giving Dick a questioning look. “Do you think we could show the other two our tree seat?” Damian appeared to ponder this, then nodded, his expression dead serious. Dick grinned.

“Alright guys, follow me!” 

Dick, Jason, and Tim ran on the ground while Damian followed from the trees above. When they reached the place where the branches formed a sort of bench, Damian plopped down in the middle proudly. Dick and Tim joined him, Jason chuckling at the scene from below. He pulled out his phone, getting plenty of shots of his brothers fighting for space. 

Eventually, Jason climbed up to join them. The four of them struggled to balance without breaking any branches and, thus, destroying their precious seat. Once they managed to get relatively comfortable, they settled down, throwing around insults and laughing as the sun went down.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been pounding its way out of my brain for the past week and a half (at least) and now I'm finally free! Having said that, it's been such a relief to finish that I haven't edited super thoroughly, so let me know if there's any painfully obvious mistakes. Otherwise, it is what it is. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
